


Of Kith and Kin

by AranitaGambade



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Thorin Lives, Angst, Annoying dwarf king, Death, F/M, Family, Marriage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Hobbit, Slow Build, multiple relationship, strong female character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AranitaGambade/pseuds/AranitaGambade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Erebor's reclamation King Thorin Oakenshield must take a wife. One who can provide him with an heir, a figurehead and strong political ties. But tragedy is never far away and a terrible turn of events invokes an ancient law that changes everything. One that must be overcome for the sake of kin. A tale of pain, sacrifice and maybe learning to love at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# Chapter 1

 

**_The year 2945, four years post Smaug’s demise._ **

The lands thereabouts were cold and inhospitable, Bren felt, breathing in a swirl of chilly air as she sat astride her fidgety pony. The land was only now beginning to regain a small portion of life over its vast plains as green shoots and shrubs sprouted up here and there. A smattering of emerald grass blades coated much of the barren dirt.

The region surrounding the Lonely Mountain was indeed taking quite some time to recover from the dragon’s fire, the curse upon those flames having been removed with the drake’s death some four years before. Bren thought it would all have been quite a dreary sight then if what it was now was any comparison. The dwarrowdam narrowed her eyes for a moment and imagined all the land in her vision as blackened and burnt, with a thick coating of soft grey ash solidifying like a blanket made from stone.

Smiling grimly to herself Bren turned and looked over the three wagons that trundled along the rutted road that was really more of a track. The first, she knew, held the Lord Bragen, his Lady wife Miffe along their daughter Mheren who was all fair hair and perfect beauty.

Then there was the eldest child Bradun who was strong and bold, with Madlur and Badlur the twin troublemakers who were more affectionately known as Mad and Bad within the confines of their household. The wagons had stopped for a moment as the family all craned for a look at the fabled and newly reclaimed Erebor, greatest of the dwarf kingdoms of middle earth.

The other two wagons were filled with bits and pieces from their life in the Iron Hills, though mostly they contained fine dresses for the young Lady Mheren who was being forced into a marriage with a dwarf who was over twice her age; old enough to be her father and the King to boot. Bren knew why the council in Erebor had chosen Mheren, of all the dwarrowdams in middle earth. Firstly, she was charismatic, reserved when she wished and easy on the eyes.

Then there was her father’s control of most of the iron mines in the Iron Hills. He was very rich and very influential; something the council in Erebor would have been looking for in the future queen’s father in regards to diplomatic opportunity.

Perhaps just as importantly though was her age; to optimise the chance that an heir would be produced, the new queen would have to be young and fertile, but not too young as for it to be wholly improper. Bren wondered if the dwarves involved in making the match had bred dogs or horses at some point.

Bren turned her mind away from its wandering and watched as the wagons slowly began to trundle along once again, the stout little horses pushing away at the harnesses. Bren shot a quick glance at the looming mountain that managed to leave her feeling wholly unimpressed and snorted to herself, wondering why the heck this mountain, even with all its gold and treasures, was so special that a handful of dwarves would contest a dragon for it. The dwarrowdam couldn’t help but wonder if all the dwarves in Erebor were quite so brave and stupid. Perhaps she would fit in a little better if they were.

Huffing as her pony jigged in place and thrashed its feet against the ground Bren urged on the shaggy little beast, cantering to her place just behind the lead wagon containing the family, her pack and weapons bouncing as the pony pranced about impatiently. She wouldn’t put it past the animal to be sensing the journey’s end and the long-awaited respite that comes with such a thing.

They carried on; all privately excited by the rest that was promised when they finally alighted from their transport. The wagons, their occupants, their guards and Bren followed the road that led them around the far outskirts of Dale rather than through the city of men. The road grew smoother and better maintained as the travellers got closer to main gates of Erebor. Enormous, carved dwarf soldiers loomed over them, maintaining an eternal vigilance over their kingdom and its occupants. Not that they had done much good when a dragon came bursting in through the front door, Bren thought humourlessly.

She shivered as she passed into the shadow of the great balcony that hung overhead, unprepared for the undoubtedly lengthy underground stay she was about to be subjected to. She wouldn’t be there at all if it weren’t for Mheren who had sent a letter saying that she wouldn’t be getting married at all if Bren wasn’t by her side. Bren, knowing she’d probably be executed by Lady Miffe if that came to occur, forced herself to smile and tag along if only for a while. In a number of weeks Mheren would be wed, and then Bren could leave again as she always had.

The pony she was riding bounced about crazily as they moved through the great gates of the kingdom, throwing its head in disproval of going underground. Bren couldn’t blame it; she would much rather sleep under the sky on a bed of thorns than spend her life shut up in rocky halls such as this.

Bren had to admit though that the dwarves here were industrious folk; there was no sign that a dragon had ever passed through those mighty gates, shattering them. Nor was there any reminder of the occasion in any of the stone work inside. It was as though every sign that the dragon had ever occupied those halls had been done away with. The stone work itself was exquisite, everything carved and perfectly geometrical, more elaborate than any Bren had seen before.

Bren didn’t like it though; everything was too dark, too angular. She had spent much of her life surrounded by nature, and it certainly showed in her tastes which were decidedly regarded as un-dwarf like.

But she pulled her pony to a rocky halt beside the first carriage as it stopped and sat astride proudly as a servant ran to open the door for the occupants. There was a disturbance in the crowd that had gathered and Bren’s eyes shot over to it, an important looking dwarf and a small entourage of guards striding towards them.

“My Lord Bragen!” The stout dwarf with his snowy white beard called, bowing before approaching the Lord and the two clasped forearms.

“Lord Balin,” was the gruff reply, though it was obvious to Bren that Bragen was happy to see this Balin.

“His Majesty wishes to see you and your family as soon as you are prepared,” The elderly dwarf told Lord Bragen with a small smile on his face. Bragen nodded and cast a glance at his family who were all done in their finest and looking immaculate. Then he shot a look at Bren who was in travel stained clothing with her weapons strapped to her but looking amicable as ever. She grinned slightly with a nod and Bragen turned back to Balin.

“We are ready now,” he said and Balin nodded with another smile.

With a groan Bren swung out of the saddle and handed the reins to one of the guards who had accompanied them. She discretely pulled her breeches out of unsavoury areas and pushed a little of her filthy hair out of her face. Then she walked over to Lord Bragen and his family, taking her place beside Mheren who smiled at her gratefully. Balin shot her a strange look, as though wondering why she would be accompanying such a well to do family, but said nothing. Bren ignored him; she had grown used to those looks long ago.

Balin led the way down a couple of wide, bustling corridors and halls before pausing before a large door made of dark stone and embossed with gold. He let a glance trail over the assembled travellers, lingering for a moment on Mheren who had donned a veil that covered all but her eyes. She was still pretty with it, her jade coloured eyes glistening brightly against her pale skin and fair hair. She wore a pale pink dress that bought out the tones in her skin beautifully.

Mheren looked marvellous as always, almost painfully so, but in Bren’s mind she was still too young to be truly beautiful, particularly in regards to males. But she did look like she could walk straight in there and sit herself down beside the king like she had always been there, like she had always been queen.

She was nervous though, that much was evident to see. Her eyes were slightly too wide, her brow marginally creased, her hands refused to sit still and a miniscule bead of sweat was blossoming on her forehead. It was all only noticeable both because Bren had known Mheren since before she was born and because the two of them were standing in such close proximity. Bren could see her eyelashes quivering.

Bren reached out and took Mheren’s hand discretely in her own, hoping no dirt rubbed off the thick leather of her gloves and onto Mheren’s dainty hands, and gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing. Mheren shot her a grateful look, unconsciously comforted just by Bren’s constant, powerful presence.

She loved Bren to bits. The older dwarrowdam was somewhat of an enigma to Mheren, even though she had known her all of her life. Bren had even been there when she was born, and her other sibling’s too. The adventurous maiden spent little time with their family but always seemed to reappear just when she was needed or desired most, only to disappear just as rapidly once she was no longer required. Mheren had a feeling she would hang around if only it wasn’t for her mother the Lady Miffe who had made it abundantly clear that Bren was no longer welcome around their family for any length of time, since apparently she couldn’t get rid of her on a more permanent basis.

The doors opened before them and Mheren tilted her chin a little higher, masking her nerves behind a façade of cool indifference. Then they entered; Lord Bragen at their head, his wife beside him but a step behind. Then Bradun walked tall behind his aging father, a fine specimen of a young dwarf lad. Madlur and Badlur followed, for once not bouncing in exuberance. The only way to tell the difference was to examine their short beards; Madlur’s was not so thick and harsh like her twin brother’s.

Then it was Mheren’s turn and stepped proudly though daintily. Bren followed a full step behind and Mheren imagined she must have looked quite the misfit among them. She must have looked very dark among their fair family, with her dark hair and her filthy, leather coat and travelling clothes as well as the sword hung at her hip and her various knives, some not so apparent as others. The rest of them were dressed in their finest, sea green mostly, though her mother was in a deep blood red. All of them had fair silky blonde hair done in elaborate braids and knots as befitted their status. Bren’s hair was dark red like dried blood and hung loose for the most part save a thick braid that knotted at the back of her head. Her eyes, sharp cobalt blue, darted around and watched everything.

Mheren thought the walk towards the throne awfully long and tedious, since she could see little past the heads of her family. She longed to know what the king looked like. Secretly she was afraid of what he would be like, though she tried her utmost not to show it. Bren was the only one she had told. She had been told that the king was older, though not quite as old as her own father who was quite the venerable dwarf nowadays, and that he was moody, broody and cantankerous. A large part of her feared that she would be wedded to him bedded by him and then kept locked away until required as a figurehead.

But that was her duty, she supposed. She had been prepared for such a thing all of her life by her mother. It was her duty to provide heirs for the king and to serve him, nothing else. She did not even have to see him lest he wished it. If they did not get along she could just stay away until he summoned her for his pleasures, or whatever else he may have desired. She feared and despised the seemingly inevitable fate that was awaiting her at the end of this long walk to the throne and her betrothed. Inexplicably though, she was excited too, but not enough so as to mask her fear.

Mheren was also afraid because soon, as soon as the wedding was done, her family would leave and Mheren would be alone with her new life. She hoped that Bren would stay, at least for a little while, but Mheren knew that it would most likely take her all the threats and blackmail in the world to even get her to stay until the wedding. But perhaps she would visit often if she asked nicely.

The young dwarrowdam could see the top spire of the throne curling upwards into the cavernous ceiling now, threaded with gold. A long gash in the side was the only sign she had seen thus far of the dragon’s destruction of the mighty kingdom. Mheren followed the spire downwards, noting that there didn’t seem to be far to go now to the throne, but could see nothing else. There was no sound in the room save the heavy tramp of their footsteps and clanking sounds that Bren made as she moved, her weapons and various belts and buckles all clanging off one another. At any other time Mheren would have laughed at her friend which would have prompted a wagging finger and a cheeky smile.

But this was not any other time and Mheren took a last deep breath as her family fanned out in front of her. Her father and mother stopped in the middle, arm in arm. Bradun stepped to their father’s left and stood tall, towering over the other members of their family. Madlur and Badlur moved to their mothers left, moving in unison in the funny way only they could. Mheren followed Bradun and stood at his left, trying not to fidget. Bren moved past her, further to the left and stood discretely, a few steps behind. But Mheren hardly noticed. Her eyes were on the throne and those who stood there.

Balin took his place directly beside the throne next to a formidable dwarf in fairly plain but strong looking armour, twin axes on his back. His head was bare, bald for the most part and tattooed. He was possibly the single most terrifying dwarf Mheren had ever seen. Beside him Balin, who had a few scars of his own to show, looked as gentle as a bunny. A fluffy white bunny that had eaten too much good food, but a bunny nonetheless.

On the other side of the throne, to the family’s left, was a young dwarf with thick honey blonde hair. He wore a crimson and gold tunic and furs about his shoulders. Mheren thought him very handsome indeed, if not too handsome. He had on a stoic expression, but possessed a kind, intelligent face that made him seem very mature indeed.

To his right was another young dwarf, as dark as the other was fair, and by their similar thin features Mheren thought them to be brothers and most likely of the line of Durin. The princes, Fíli and Kíli, she assumed. This dwarf had nought but scruff on his cheeks and chin, and dressed in deep Durin blue with silver. He tried to mimic the same stoic expression his brother and the other’s had but was fair too interested in what was going on. His eyes shone with interest and mirth and Mheren thought him too to be very good looking.

Finally, almost unwillingly, her eyes were dragged to the centre of the group and to the throne itself. Thorin Oakenshield sat attentively but somehow still managed to make it look like he was lounging comfortably on that stone seat of his. He was tall, Mheren could tell that straight away, even as he was sitting. He wore the same blue as the dark haired prince and indeed shared many of his features. However where the prince had dark eyes the king had eyes piercing and blue like chips of ice, more like the blond dwarf.

His eyes were on her and made her blush uncontrollably, though she tried her utmost not to. As one, her family dipped into bows and curtsies as required and held the positions until the king said otherwise.

“Rise,” he commanded, and those simple words commanded majesty and power portrayed through his deep baritone. They did as told and Mheren used the opportunity to again eye the king without seeming to. It was easier now; his gaze was no longer on her, but her father. Mheren felt a little disappointed. Was she so easily dismissible?

“Lord Bragen,” The King spoke again and Mheren allowed his wholesome tones to wash over her ears pleasingly. “I trust your journey was well?”

“Aye my Lord, though I fear I get too old to be doing travelling of any kind,” was her father’s response and Mheren saw Balin give a small smile. Her father was indeed getting old; he was easily the oldest dwarf in the room, even older than Lord Balin.

“Nevertheless I am glad that you and your family made the journey safely,” King Thorin’s face showed no emotion as he spoke and Mheren thought him a dwarf who would be very quick to anger. Bragen took the hint from the king’s words though and took a single step forward with his wife on his arm.

“You Majesty, my wife the Lady Miffe,” Mheren shot a look at Bren who rolled her eyes back at her as Miffe simpered and curtsied again in front of the king. Bragen released his wife and Miffe reluctantly took that single step back into a line with her children. The dwarf Lord gestured at his eldest first.

“My eldest son, Bradun,” Bradun bowed low from the waist and Mheren masked a smile behind her veil. He was the pride of their father as much as she was of their mother. “And the twins, Madlur and Badlur.”

It was evident that their father had no idea which of the twins was which, what with his failing eyesight, despite one of them being dressed in a dress. Mheren agreed with him though that it wasn’t safe to assume that was Madlur, since her brother had been known to take her place in her finery on more than one occasion, when either of them actually wore finery, that is.

“And my eldest daughter, Mheren,” Mheren realised with a jolt of terror that her father had just introduced _her_ and swallowed her fear, stepping forward and curtseying low, before flashing the king a small smile, though she knew he couldn’t see it. She thought she might die when he made no gesture in return save the slightest of nods which he had offered to all of her family.

“And you?” The King Under the Mountain asked, looking beyond Mheren. The fair haired dwarrowdam felt her brow furrow in confusion and half turned. Bren, who looked briefly startled at being addressed directly, smoothed her expression into a respectful one.

“Bren, your majesty,” she bowed, being in breeches rather than a dress. Come to think of it, Mheren had never seen Bren curtsey, though she must have, since she had once been a lady in her own right.

The King stared at her for a long moment, as though he half recognised her before he nodded, apparently satisfied and leaned back on his throne. He gestured to his silent witnesses.

“You’ve already met Lord Balin of course. Beside him is Lord Dwalin, captain of the guard,” Then he gestured to the princes. “My nephews, the princes Fíli and Kíli.”

The four dwarves bowed and the princes even flashed a smile each, though Kíli’s was much more energetic. He appeared fed up with these formalities and standing around, though he was meeting the people who were soon to be a part of his family. But then Thorin stood from his throne and Mheren was struck by how tall and powerful he seemed. His hair, streaked with a few thin strands of silver, hung low before his shoulders and down his back with no decoration save two braids that framed his face. His crown served to make his face appear even more angular and rather severe.

Despite the silver in his hair, a few lines around his eyes and the overall cold visage that he presented, Thorin Oakenshield was still an extremely good looking dwarf. Mheren was willing to wager that if he smiled a little he would be even more so. But be it as it was that didn’t look likely to be happening any time soon. A little absently the young Lady found herself wondering if she would one day be the cause of such a smile. Perhaps when the King had a little heir in his arms and Mheren had been the one to give it to him. The young female bit back a longing sigh that everything would turn out as well as she wished it to. She knew it was likely to be very different to that in real life but she had to keep hoping and dreaming for the better.

“One of my guards will show you to your new chambers, if you will,” King Thorin said, inclining his head in a dismissal. Their family regrouped behind the guard that came for before stopping as Thorin spoke again. “Lady Bren, remain, please.”

Mheren couldn’t help her eyes widening. Not only had the _King_ asked for _Bren_ to remain behind, he had called her _Lady_ and said _please_ when he could have just commanded her to do so. She saw the look of shock and revulsion that passed across her mother’s face. But it was her father’s expression that stood out the most; he simply nodded at Bren and gave her a small smile. Whatever it was, he knew what was going on.

Bren gave a half bow and smiled reassuringly at Mheren as she followed the Lord and Lady with her siblings. Mheren merely shot her a confused look. How would _Bren_ know the King? More than anything she wished to be a little fly on the wall at that moment. She’d thought she’d known Bren well, at least better than anyone else.

~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Thorin watched Lord Bragen and his family retreated from the throne room before descending from the throne, his steps heavy and measured.

“I did not recognise you at first, Lady Bren,” he said as he came to stand before her, well aware of the puzzled eyes of Balin, Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli on his back. Bren had changed a great deal, but then she had been very young when he had last seen her. Now she looked a much stronger and independent dwarrowdam. Not that she hadn’t always been so.

“Aye, I noticed that your majesty,” she said with a slight smile that showed slight lines about her eyes. She tilted her head to the side and some of that dark red hair fell in her face. “I also noticed that your nose recovered from the last time we met.”

“No thanks to your fist,” he retorted as a wry smile passed his face.

“I thought I was going to be executed for that,” she said with a huff. “Punching a prince and all… although you _did_ mistake me for a lad.”

“I can’t help it you dressed and acted like a lad,” the King told her. “Besides, I never told anyone it was you who hit me.”

“Really? That makes sense I suppose,” Bren smirked. “Couldn’t have the world knowing that the great warrior Thorin Oakenshield got beat down by a little whisp of lass could we, your majesty?”

Thorin’s lips quirked as though he was about to smile again but thought better of it. “It’s good to see you again. I never saw you again after Eldi… and your mother and brother…”

“I never saw much of anyone for a good ten or fifteen years afterwards, so don’t think yourself so lucky,” For a moment Bren forgot she was addressing the King of their people and bit her lip as the words slipped out. She wondered if she should rectify the situation but thought better of it. Instead the dwarrowdam decided to push her luck for a little longer. “It’s strange though. If I hadn’t of turned into a grief stricken wreck we would have been wed after Eldi’s death.”

“Strange indeed,” Thorin admitted with a drawn look on his face. Bren scowled at him.

“I’m not _that_ bad your majesty! I _was_ a lady once upon a time,” she thought she might have heard Thorin scoff at her but blamed it on echoes in the hall.

“You and uncle were to be wed?” all the dwarves in the room turned with raised eyebrows to look at young Kíli who flushed a bit under the sudden attention but didn’t retract his question.

“Uh… yes my prince,” Bren bobbed her slightly, having forgotten that any of the others were in the room. “After my sister died. That’s how the laws work.”

“I was betrothed to Lady Bren’s sister Eldi when we were young. It was arranged, of course, and during our people’s exile. Lady Eldi died unexpectedly and the law states that the next daughter is to take up the betrothal. That was Lady Bren, and she was granted a time to deal with her grief. But then my father went missing and everything just fell apart,” Bren couldn’t help but note the way Thorin distanced himself as he was speaking, with no emotion in his voice or facial expression. It was disheartening. She had known him as a fiery and fierce male, but she supposed that his father’s disappearance and the rule of his people had changed him a great deal, and not necessarily for the better. “That was a long time ago though.”

“One hundred and six years now,” Bren provided helpfully with a twist to her lips. She almost looked like she was in physical pain. She turned to the King with something that looked a mix between a smile and a grimace. “And now you’re marrying my other sister. Hooray.”

“Lady Mheren’s your sister?” Kíli asked. Bren smiled; he was an inquisitive thing wasn’t he?

“Half-sister, yes,” she paused. “My father was forced to remarry after the death of my mother. Political reasons, of course.”

“I imagine that’s the reason they didn’t reinvoke your betrothal,” the other brother, Fíli, mused. “Your father remarrying would have stripped you of your rights and titles.”

“That is it indeed, prince Fíli. Though I was told that I am too old, too wild and too pig-headed also.” Bren scowled slightly. “What dwarrowdam likes being told she’s old? I’m not even that old!”

“No you’re not. You’re what? A hundred and fifty?” Thorin’s brow furrowed like he was trying to remember. Bren stared at him for a moment and wondered if she would be executed _this_ time if she broke his nose again.

“I’m a hundred and thirty seven,” she growled. “Your _majesty.”_

“My apologies, Bren, I meant no insult,” Thorin hastily tried to rectify with as much dignity as he could manage as his companions snorted with bridled laughter behind him. He had been on the receiving end of a dwarrowdam’s rage –namely his sister’s – enough times to know that he had to fix it fast. Or escape. “Would you care to be escorted to your room now?”

“Perhaps that would be best,” Bren replied stiffly. “Lest I die of old age in your throne room your majesty.”

Thorin shot her another apologetic glance before retreating behind his typical reserved exterior. He gestured for a guard and Bren shot each member of the room a nod before leaving the King with a final bow and retreating, imagining the tongue-lashing she was about to receive from Lady Miffe.

~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~

“Your quarters, my lady,” the guard said, gesturing to the door on his right. It was on a short, wide corridor with a few other doors that Bren assumed belonged to the servants that would be working for Lord Bragen and his family during their stay. A part of her was enraged that she would be reduced to servant’s quarters, but she would rather that than staying with the family directly. Besides, she had lived with less many times in the past.

“The door at the end of the hall leads directly into the family’s common area,” the guard told her before bowing and disappearing back down the hall. Bren stared after him for a moment bemoaning what little she was offered in way of directions before she opened the door before her and stepped inside.

She was immediately in the lounge, no foyer being necessary in regards to servant’s quarters, and there was a single couch, a fire, a rug on the floor and a few empty shelves. It was very sparse and Bren had few belongings of her own to brighten it up with. She looked about but saw no washroom, meaning she would have to use community baths, as well as join either her family or the rest of society for meals as there was no kitchen either. Aside from the lounge there was one other room and that was the bedroom. It held nothing but two single beds, a bedside table between them, a vanity and a wardrobe. The floor was cold, smooth stone, just like the walls and ceiling.

Bren sighed and moved towards the bed, before stubbing her booted toe on something that bumped along the floor a little. She glanced down and was relieved to see the single pack she had brought with her. Bren picked it up and upended it on the other bed, her clothing falling out in a tangled heap. There were also a couple of candles that she had carefully wrapped and brought with her – both smelt like mint – three books and a spare pair of boots. That was all she had carried with her to this new and unfamiliar place.

Looking at the clothing tossed on the other bed Bren rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she flopped back onto the other mattress, laying spread-eagled across the small mattress. She would need to buy new clothing, new boots and some jewellery if she was to be staying in Erebor until Mheren’s wedding. But first she needed a bath.

Bren growled and rolled back off the mattress that wasn’t quite as soft as she would like it to be. She stood up and cast off her sword belt, digging all of her knives out of the places they were hidden. She kept one attached around her upper thigh though, just in case. She changed her into her other boots which weren’t quite so clotted with mud nor were they so large or steel-toed.

Then she strode to the door with a purpose, a clean set of clothes under her arm along with a comb. She pushed the door open and stuck her head out into the hallway looking both left and right before stepping outside. She turned and locked the door behind her with the key she had procured on the dresser.

“Lady Bren?” a timid voice called from behind her and she turned back, seeing a young dwarrowdam looking at her anxiously.

“Yes?” she replied, wondering what this shy little lamb could possibly want.

“My name’s Dina, Lady Bren. The King has asked that I serve you during your stay,” The young female bobbed her head and her dark curls bounced with the motion. She was shorter than Bren, and narrower with a gentle look to her.

“Serve me?” Bren asked confused. “I am no lady; I do not need a young lass like you waiting on me.”

“It is no trouble at all, my lady,” the girl, Dina, said and Bren knew there was no way she was going to get rid of the little thing. Besides, she could be useful.

“Very well, then,” Bren conceded. “But you will not call me ‘lady’ for I am not one.”

“Yes miss Bren,” the maid said, bobbing her head again. She looked up at her new mistress with an eager smile, her green eyes shining brightly. “Is there anything I can help with my la – miss Bren?”

“I need a bath,” Bren said simply, gesturing to the clothes tucked under her arm. “And then I need to go shopping.”

“Of course miss Bren!” The girl grinned, eager to be of use even if it was just as a glorified map. “This way, and may I take your clothes?”

Reluctantly Bren handed her fresh clothes to the young female and followed after her as she all but skipped down the hall, the older dwarrowdam sighing and reconciling herself to an overly exuberant lady in waiting. Not that she needed waiting on at all.

~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~

The bathing house is bustling when they arrive but Bren is not apprehensive. She has bathed this way many times, and in far more compromising scenarios on the road also. Dina leads her down a set of stars lined with rush mats to prevent anyone from slipping and to a junction that has two halls leading from it. Above each are the Khuzdul runes for male and female respectively. Dina leads her down the hall to the left which is lit by small glowing lanterns and then turns another corner.

The bathing house is expansive, and must be even more so on the male side. There are baths of varying sizes, all set down in the stone floor like pools. Some are small, only seating one or two dwarves, and others are far larger, capable of accommodating a score or more. All the single baths are currently occupied but Bren isn’t overly fussed. Dina leads her down the far end of the bathing house where there are medium sized pools and takes Bren’s clothing as she strips, setting the dirty stuff down in a basket and eyeing the knife that her mistress hands her with apprehension. But she takes it and sets it in a small alcove in the wall along with Bren’s boots, comb and clean clothing before laying out a soft downy towel also. Bren notes with interest that she isn’t the only dwarrowdam who is utterly shameless in regards to being bare in public; a number of females do the same, whilst others step into the water whilst wearing a thin robe which is shed thereafter.

Bren slipped into the bath and sighed as the hot water flowed over her travel-weary body. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Dina walking off with the basket of her filthy clothes, taking them to the launders. Bren doesn’t care, she just leans back and sinks down to her eyes as she imagines that the dirt has just upped and floated off her in a cloud but knew that wasn’t so, instead reaching for a bar of soap and scrubbing vigorously at herself. Her skin turned red under her ministrations. When she was done and appropriately clean she tugged the braid from her hair and submerged herself, scrubbing at her scalp to get her hair nice and loose. The she took a bottle of lightly scented oil and upturned it in her palm before slathering it on her scalp and massaging it in vigorously. She rinsed and lay back once again, wondering when it had ever become so difficult for her to live a normal life where she could just enjoy a bath. She had not done so for a very long time, always on the road or rushing or _something._ This was a pleasant change of pace she concluded.

There were people in the bath around her, and on the floor behind her but she paid them no heed, rather just taking the rare opportunity to let the hot water untangle her snarled muscles and soothe old aches. But even as she relished the moment she knew she couldn’t stay. So Bren rose and stepped out of the bath, taking the towel Dina offered her and wrapping it about herself. The maiden carried her clothes and led Bren to a small room removed from the rest of the baths by a rush curtain. Inside was a chair, a vanity and a mirror. Bren dried herself and changed into her dress– reluctantly accepting Dina’s aid – which was a dark stormy grey with pale ivory stitching at the cuffs and neck.

Then she sat and Dina set to work, drying her hair with gentle, practised hands before she split the half damp strands into sections and began braiding them back, in the same way they had been before; two wide braids going back around the crown of her head and knotted at the back. In truth the maid was a little frustrated that she evidently wasn’t going to get an opportunity to try anything a little more elaborate.

“So, where were you from before you came to Erebor?” Bren asked after a long moment, hating the silence that she knew that maid would not break without prompting.

“I was born in Ered Luin, Miss Bren,” the young dwarrowdam replied without looking up.

“I’ve never been to the Blue Mountains,” Bren mused, rubbing her beard with the back of a knuckled.

“I liked it very much there, though it was the only home I knew till recently,” Dina said with a tiny, fond smile on her face.

“Why did you leave?” Bren asked, watching the other dam’s face in the mirror.

“My parents died when I was young, so I live with my aunt who is a widow. She was Lady Dís’ lady-in-waiting in Ered Luin so she followed her lady when she came here to Erebor,” Dina answered honestly, the words flowing from her naïve tongue.

Bren closed her eyes for a brief moment and tried to summon an image of Dís to her mind. She couldn’t quite manage it, though whether that was because of the passage of time or because she had never actually met Dís she couldn’t be sure. She had a peculiar feeling that it was the latter; Thraín had ever been a jealous dwarf, and would have kept his fairest and only daughter hidden away from other’s eyes until she was wed. Bren imagined that the lady of Durin been suffocated for much of her early life. A part of the dwarrowdam rebelled against the very idea of it, and she knew she would have been clawing at the walls if she had of been in Dís’ place.

“Makes sense,” Bren grunted after she thrashed those thoughts out of her head, realising that she had best formulate some kind of reply for the maiden, who chewed her lip for a moment as though thinking hard.

“What about you, Miss Bren? You lived in the Iron Hills, did you not? Were you sad to leave them behind?” Dina, realising that she had just broken one of the cardinal rules of being a good lady-in-waiting with her questions prying into the older dam’s life, stuttered and flushed. “Apologies my Lady! I did not mean to step out of line!”

Dina had taken a quick step back, releasing Bren’s half-done braid which quickly unravelled, and stood with her head bowed as though expecting reproach. Bren felt a rush of sympathy for the young female; she must have quite the expectations to live up to if her aunt was indeed the princess’s lady-in-waiting. Bren expected Dina had gotten the rules of her trade drilled into her head from the time she was a young child.

“It is no matter lass,” Bren said, trying to soften her voice in the comforting manner she would with a wild or spooked animal. “I would rather you spoke to me. I expect I will be quite lonely here otherwise.”

Her admission coaxed a small smile from the teary eyed maiden who took a tentative step forward and regathered Bren’s hair, beginning the braiding again. “Thank you, Miss Bren. It is very kind of you to be so generous with me, and I hope that you will not be lonely here in the least.”

“I hope not too,” Bren told her with a fond smile. The girl was growing on her already, particularly with the way she wore her emotions on her sleeve. Dina was just so innocent and tender. “But as to your questions, I was raised in the Iron Hills and have lived there often enough to call them home I suppose, though I do not truly see it as such. I wander mostly, travelling from cities to encampments and villages; anywhere our people dwell.”

“That sounds exciting,” Dina enthused, a smile on her face.

“It can be. Other times it can be tiresome and boring.”

“Do you miss the Iron Hills?” Dina asked again. “I’ve never been there.”

“Sometimes I miss it. It is very open, beautiful really, and many dwarves spend a majority of their time above ground which suits me just fine. I suppose that I miss the people there most of all, though,” Bren admitted. It was nice to be able to talk to someone, and she had no doubt that Dina would not spread even a whisper of her words to anyone else.

“You like being above ground?” Dina asked, pure curiosity shining in her gaze.

“I think if you scratched beneath the surface you will find many of our people who were raised in exile would favour the open sky over a stone one. It is just what you become accustomed to as a youngster,” Bren smiled slightly as Dina’s brow furrowed. “Is that too strange for you, lass?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she nodded her head a little stiffly. “My aunt said that those who were raised serving others will always think that right, whilst those forced into servitude will always rebel.”

“She sounds a wise woman,” Bren confessed, laughing slightly as the younger dam pulled a face.

“Perhaps. She also said that was why we should be so proud of our position in life, because we will live our entire lives selfless if we are true to ourselves.” She smirked a little as this time it was Bren who was making faces. “Is that too strange for _you,_ Miss Bren?”

Bren shrugged, rolling her eyes at the impudence. “Sometimes a little selfishness is a good thing. Overindulgence is the curse.”

“And the greatest weapon against that is abstinence,” Dina said with a broad grin as she finished the second braid and knotted them together. Bren became aware that she had just been revealed a tid-bit of information from within the depths of the servant’s guild and again smiled at the maiden’s naivety. Selflessness and abstinence… core values of the servant’s guild. It was an interesting snippet of knowledge, though not an altogether useful one.

“Each to his own, I suppose,” Bren murmured as she stood from the chair and looked at _herself_ in the mirror. She blinked. Her hair was neater and straighter than she had seen it in years, all of the knots and tangles combed out with meticulous braids. Bren rarely spent too much time or effort on her braids since there always seemed something more important to do. Somehow Dina had managed to get most of her unruly hair out of her face and it made her look… more ladylike perhaps.

“Right,” Bren said after an uncomfortable moment. “As much as I hate to say it… shopping.”

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As any writer does, I adore feedback of any kind. Please comment or something.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Chapter 3

Dina led the way in an unobtrusive manner. Somehow she still managed to make it appear as though she was mindlessly trailing along, but Bren would truly have been lost without her. Erebor was more a maze than any place she had ever been, especially since her underground compass was terrible in comparison to most dwarves. Bren could hardly tell north from south when under the stone.

But she did notice that they were mostly moving down reasonably busy halls with dwarves jostling all about them. Most made no effort to avoid Bren; she was just another lost waif returned home to the mountain, to them. She was just another stranger, another nameless face in the crowd.

Bren appreciated that. It made it easy to listen to the chatter and gossip that surrounded her. The topic? Mheren and the rest of her family. Of course.

“It is a marvel,” Bren began, ducking into a quiet side corridor to avoid a group of guards. Dina stood at her side with a questioning expression on her face. “That wherever Mheren goes she draws that attention of everyone for miles.”

“The Lady Mhere?” Dina queried. “The king’s betrothed?”

“That’s the one,”

“You know her well then?” Dina asked uncertainly, obviously confused as to Bren’s casual deference to a lady of such standing. Perhaps she was already forgetting how she had called Bren ‘my Lady.’

“Mmm,” Bren hummed as she watched the passers-by with veiled interest. “She’s my half-sister.”

“Oh,” Dina fumbled, searching for what she knew of Lord Bragen’s family, which was very little indeed. “So you are Lord Bragen’s daughter from his previous wife?”

Bren sighed, realising that the idea was going to take some getting used to for many people. “I am at that.”

“Oh,” Dina said, at a loss for any kind of intelligent reply. “But then you _are_ a lady then, Miss Bren… only you said you aren’t.”

“You are young,” Bren replied with a fond smile at the maiden. “I used to be a lady.”

“What- what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all,” Bren replied, feeling like she had revealed more about her past in this single day than she had her entire life. “My mother and other siblings passed away and my father was forced to remarry. His new wife refused to acknowledge me and by society’s standards I no longer exist.”

“That’s not fair!” Dina exclaimed, her voice and expression showing her clear outrage. Bren just shrugged.

“That’s the way it is, and the way it has been for a long time now.”

“But your quarters, and me… should you not at least have something a little more befitting of your status?” Dina wrung her hands, confused.

“I have _no status,”_ Bren said, trying her best not to growl at the young female. “My quarters are as they are because I was not expected and I am believed to be a guardian to Mheren. Nothing more, and it would be preferable if it stayed that way.”

She looked at the dwarf maiden with a meaningful eye and Dina bobbed her head in understanding.

“Only the king, Lord Balin, Dwalin and the princes know who I truly am. I expect one of them sent you to me, though for what reason I cannot fathom,” Bren sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling for a moment. “But enough of this, I have shopping that must be done. Clothing and jewellery, as well as something for Mheren.”

“Something for the Lady Mheren?” Dina asked, confused as to the purpose.

“Yes, it is her birthday soon; I must get her a gift.”

“What did you have in mind?” Dina asked as they hesitantly stepped back out into the moving current of dwarves.

“I’m not sure; I’m not much of a gift buyer,” Bren shrugged, almost apologetically. She knew that Dina wanted to help, but she herself wasn’t the easiest person to cooperate with.

“Something wonderful then,” Dina said with a broad, childish smile. She was enjoying all of this far too much. “Something worthy of our future queen.”

Dina was grinning now and paused, sweeping her arms out to the side in an overly extravagant, fake curtsey. Bren’s steps carried her passed the maiden before she halted and watched her with a smile. She realised now that Dina was seeing it as her personal duty not just to wait on her, but to make her smile and not feel lonely or out of place. She was acting as a friend would.

Then something solid collided with Bren’s shoulder from behind and she hissed, stumbling forward as the person all but charged through her at full force. She dropped back and turned, half biting down a glare snarl as she glared at the person responsible, rubbing her shoulder absently.

The offender was in a flowing, gem encrusted dress that seized all her extra padding and threw it out in front in a manner may have been trying to make up for the less-than-satisfactory busts that dwarven women boasted. Bren didn’t think the effect was quite what the wearer had intended. Nevertheless she was on the receiving end of a look that scarcely fell short of open hostility.

“Watch yourself!” the dwarrowdam snapped, curling her lip. She straightened from the impact and dusted herself off as though Bren’s _commoner touch_ carried all sorts of filth and disease. Bren wondered what she’d do if she spat on her pretty little shoes. Incidentally she was then provided with the answer. “I should have you thrashed!”

Bren simply raised an impudent eyebrow at the noble lady who puffed herself up in a not-so-flattering way and tried to smooth her already immaculate beard. Bren nodded at the lady’s guards.

“Your lads would have to catch me first,” Bren responded, slouching in a non-threatening way that seemed to infuriate the other female all the more. The guards in question were wearing heavy ceremonial armour, and didn’t look altogether too fit to begin with. Bren turned an ear as Dina shuffled anxiously from behind, wanting to warn her new mistress, to take her arm and beat a hasty retreat, but could do no such thing in front of such a lady.

“Besides,” Bren continued in her cool demeanour. “I am not afraid to apologise for any wrong doing, but you must accept that you are partially to blame also.”

The red-headed female spoke in such a cool, calm and collected tone that Dina couldn’t help but be reminded of what she had just been told of Bren actually being of noble birth. She certainly spoke as every bit the noble lady, even as she slouched and smiled slackly. The noble dwarrowdam let out a wholly savage and un-ladylike growl that reminded Dina of a wild boar or something equally as horrid, but Bren kept her calm.

“I fail to see how _I_ could possibly be to blame, filth, and if you do not recall your manners within this very moment I shall have you doubly beaten, you and your pathetic excuse of a maid-servant,” she snarled, jerking her head towards Dina in a savage motion that caused on of her intricate blonde braids to slip loose. Dina shuddered; she had no idea how she had just become involved in this, but she didn’t like it one bit. She wanted to turn about and escape from whatever this unexpected conflict was becoming, but her fresh, strong loyalty to Bren kept her anchored in place.

“And I fail to see how the lass has anything to do with it,” Bren growled, finally straightening up so that she stared the other female in the eye with her sharp blue gaze. Dina stared. The Iron Hills dwarf had only become defensive when the other had threatened _her…_ why? But then Bren gave a derisive snort and added mockingly: “My Lady.”

The noble lady quivered slightly, though she maintained her composure well. She stared back into Bren’s azure eyes as though she could not summon the will to look away. They stood like that for a few long moments and Dina wished with all heart that she could see the look being set upon the noble lady whose composure slowly but surely came apart. She no longer seemed so aloof, snappish and fearless, rather she was beginning to look… afraid. Only marginally so, but it was definitely there.

Tears welled in the blonde’s eyes and she looked almost on the verge of breaking down, though Mahal only knows why, before Bren took a single step back and inclined her head slightly. The lady almost visibly shook herself and her expression turned to one of bewilderment as she watched Bren who straightened and gave a lazy, though strong smile.

“I apologise to you, my Lady,” Bren said in a strong sure voice, and Dina stared in utter confusion at the change of tone in her voice. She was no sounding more the respectful commoner. “I should have been more attentive and not turned my back to the flow of the crowd.”

The noble lady looked startled by the apology, but her entire demeanour seemed to have changed. She bobbed a small curtsey, much to Dina’s shock and awe.

“I too must apologise,” she said in a courteous tone. “I should have been of more of a mind to where my feet were carrying me, and I should never have treated you as I have.”

“It is no matter,” Bren replied in a breezy tone that didn’t quite suit her fierce personality. “What is done is done.”

Dina flicked a glance over to the noble lady’s ladies-in-waiting and caught their confused glances. She shrugged and together the three of them rolled their eyes discretely. Who knew what went on in the mind of nobles? It was no concern of servants, whatever it was.

“I am Koba,” the blond female said in introduction. Bren dropped a curtsey and somehow managed not to fall over, though it was possibly the single most graceless thing Dina had ever seen. She had watched five year old bob better curtseys. “Daughter of Droba.”

“A sincere pleasure to meet you,” Bren replied with an effortless smile. “My name is Bren.”

Interesting, Dina thought. Bren did not state her mother’s name, as is customary. Was it because the pain of her death was yet too fresh? Would she ever let herself be linked back to her past like that again? Dina shook her head. Her new mistress was certainly a puzzle to behold.

“If you don’t mind me asking Lady Koba…?” Bren began, waiting for the signal from the lady that, yes, she was allowed to continue. “What should I get for a young, wealthy, beautiful dwarrowdam for her birthday? You are young, wealthy and beautiful yourself…”

Dina stared with wide eyes. Was Bren buttering up this extremely well-to-do young female? Oh she _was_ good. Doubly good since the lady had no hesitation in producing an answer.

“You could try that shop over there,” she gestured across the market to a tiny shop hidden in an alcove. “They have the finest hair pieces in all of Erebor, as well as the best prices.”

Dina resisted a snort; that had been a jab at Bren’s supposed status if ever she saw one, but Bren ignored and nodded with another broad smile.

“Thank you my lady, it has been a sincere pleasure to meet you,” she watched Bren’s face as the lady took hidden of the effectively hidden dismissal and moved around Bren to disappear once again. Bren’s face rapidly slid from her cheery expression to the mask she usually wore that was borderline ambivalence with a side hint of scowl if you looked carefully.

“Um… Miss Bren?” Dina asked, almost in concern as she fell into step half beside her mistress and half behind her. “What happened?”

“People don’t like it when you expose their bluff,” Bren answered without hesitation, weaving her way through the crowd as Dina struggled to keep by her. “By staring her down like that I think she realised that she wasn’t just dealing with some commoner. I wasn’t afraid to face her, and that frightened her since people tend to be awed and frightened by her status and those useless guards that she uses only for decoration. Neither of them even had their hand anywhere near their swords.”

“But – but how did you know? Why would you do it?” Dina asked, desperate to understand.

“She’s an easy pick. There are little signs everywhere of people who wear false bravado like plate armour,” Bren answered with an absent wave of her wrist. “As to why, well, she’s a powerful young woman, but I think she has no friends. And friends in the right places are always useful.”

“You’re using her?” Dina was aghast at the very idea. Bren just didn’t seem that type of person.

“This is Erebor,” Bren glanced at her as though the maid should be already aware of what she was telling her. “It is _the_ hotbed of politics, lies and deception in all of the dwarf realms. Besides, you forget that I was born and raised a noble lady. I know that value of those skills in a place such as this.”

“So you’re just going to manipulate people?” Dina was so very confused. Bren just seemed like the solid, dependable warrior type. Before she had seen that little display she would never have imagined her as anything like a lady, let alone a noble one.

“It will make my life far easier, but that was just me getting back into the swing of things,” Bren replied with a crooked smile. “I won’t manipulate you, much, so don’t worry.”

“You don’t need to manipulate me,” Dina half-grumbled, trying not to be ungrateful and put-out. “I am your servant, Miss Bren; I serve you.”

“Really?” Bren remarked with a sudden playful smile. “I hadn’t noticed. All you seem to do is ask me questions.”

Dina stared, horrified, at the back of her mistress’s head as Bren continued to move across the market place, eyeing each stall with disinterest. “My Lady I am so sorry! I did not – I thought – it’s only… my lady, oh, I-“

Bren stopped and glanced back at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Really? This again? I thought we went through this already? Today, in fact.”

“Miss Bren?” Dina watched with wide eyes, beyond confused and slightly terrified. Bren rolled her eyes.

“I enjoy your questions and your conversations lass. I’m just teasing you,” was the red-head’s response with a cheeky little smile.

“Oh. _Oh…”_ Dina struggled to formulate some kind of intelligent response. It was not right for a lady to joke with their lady-in-waiting, nor was it proper for said maid to pester her mistress with questions. But then, Bren wasn’t a lady. Not really. “Well, in that case we should probably get you some new clothes lest someone mistake you for the help and me for the lady.”

Bren was still, watching Dina with a closed expression. Time seemed to freeze and Dina wanted to clap a hand over her mouth at her idiocy. Then Bren threw back her head and howled with laughter. It was a sight that made Dina’s heart swell. She had done that, had made Bren laugh without restraint. It was a good feeling and Dina realised then that not every mistress needed to be waited on in the same way.

“Indeed, though I think you could pass as a far better lady than me no matter how I dress!” Bren responded at last with a broad smile that showed all of her perfectly white, straight teeth. Dina gave it a few days before males were falling over themselves in order to meet and gain Bren’s attention. When she laughed like that her entire face seemed to glow and her blue eyes, normally so sharp and decisive, glittered like the blue of thin ice.

“You have proven today that you have never forgotten how to be a lady,” Dina supplied, leading the other female to a shop that had rows and rows of lovely dresses on display out the front. “And no matter how much of a ruffian you have become in the meantime, I think you could be a very fine lady indeed, if not in the noble term of it.”

Bren gauged her with a calculated glance before turning her attention to the dresses. “You are a clever little thing, you know that?”

“Aunty always said I was too clever and too curious to be a good lady-in-waiting,” Dina answered instantly. Bren stifled a smile as she held a deep blue dress against herself.

“I find them admirable traits, in a decent dosing of course.”

“Indeed?” Dina asked, nodding her approval of the V-necked dress. She replaced it with one of sea green that Bren waved away before it even came near her. Okay, no green.

“Indeed. The right amount can be just as respectable as a valiant heart and undying loyalty,” Bren a dark grey dress, almost black to the blue one she had picked. It had silvery embroidery down the bodice. Dina glanced at the two dresses as well as the one Bren was already wearing. She favoured the dark colours, tight V-neck, three quarter sleeves and an embroidered bodice that looked like it could choke the life out of a person. But Bren had the thin, narrow waisted body that could pull it off, despite her broad shoulders and narrow hips.

Together the two of them continued combing through the dresses before resigning themselves to stepping into the shop and continuing their search. Almost immediately Dina came upon a haphazard pile of dresses in the dark little shop. The dresses were all of the same design the Bren was looking for, but this pile looked like it hadn’t been touched in quite some time. Dina tried to place the design on any other dwarrowdam she had seen and couldn’t think of a one. Evidently it wasn’t very popular.

The maiden pulled out a cream and golden dress that had a much lower neckline than any others Bren had looked at. She called to her mistress who wrinkled a brow as Dina held the dress against her.

“That looks lovely, dear,” came a whispery voice came from the back of the shop, followed by a sound that was half a cackle and half a cough. Dina glanced up and caught sight of a wispy old woman little more than three feet high with a shock of pure white hair. She shuffled towards them with surprising energy, a smile on her withered features. “Brings out all those lovely golden tones in your skin.”

Dina pulled back slightly and looked at Bren and the dress again, smiling. The dressmaker was right; Bren’s skin was tanned and toned from years in the sun and the colour of the dress made her almost glow.

“You have to have this one,” Dina said, throwing it on the small pile. Bren snorted.

“Giving orders too now, are we?” she said with a twitching of her lips. Dina rolled her eyes at the impossible female before biting her lip in thought.

“What is it?” Bren asked, noting the expression on her face,

“Nothing, Miss Bren,” she replied, sighing as Bren merely raised her eyebrows. “Only, you need a gown. And a coat.”

“A gown?” Bren all but spluttered. “Whatever for?”

“I expect Lady Mheren will drag you along to a party eventually. But you’ll need one for the wedding regardless,” she added, seeing Bren’s rebellious expression. It morphed into one of distraught resignation and Bren nodded glumly.

“I notice you have many fine gowns,” Dina said, turning to the dwarrowmatron. “But none in the style Miss Bren favours.”

“That is so,” The elderly female replied. “Nobles do not favour such a style. They’re too soft round the middle for it if’n you catch my meaning!”

The woman cackled and this teased a smile from Bren’s lips.

“Could you make me one, dear seamstress?” she asked, inclining her head slightly.

“Aye, just step through here and I’ll measure you up.”

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I greatly appreciate it!


End file.
